And I Remembered the Days When I Prayed for the Things I Have Now
Like many young professionals — I was often plagued with work fatigue.
Some days were worse than others. I sighed, my shoulders nearly dragged on the floor, my eyes fighting to stay awake. I straightened, only to find another colleague across my desk — pulling her arms up with a crack, her eyes lined with lack of sleep. My eyes traveled up to the furthest desk in my line of sight, only to find similar distressing view. With that happy scenery, I shook my head and forced myself to type on.
Sometimes it feels like it was eons ago when I thought getting a job was everything I could’ve wanted. I was even among the lucky few to land a job in one of my dream companies — renowned for its good working culture, flashy office, and relatively attractive pay. Independence and security were sexy, and it was easy for a fresh graduate like myself to get lost in the idea without being aware or simply refuse to acknowledge the life of toil that comes with it.
But on days like today — those realities come crashing down quick on my long way home. With a mountain of work waiting to be completed, my laptop wheezed (the charger nearly exploded for once — believe it or not, sparks fly), and my brain buzzed even louder. At times like this, I really hate the way my brain works. Like endless whirring of gears in my head — mechanical, unflinching, never knowing how to flip the switch off.
So, I leaned back, stuffed my ears with my airpods, blasted the music, then whirled my chair to the nearest bookshelf.
And I stared.
…and stared.
…and stared.
It was my own twisted form of meditation.
I invented this peculiar calming method a few months ago, when I finally decided to buy a proper bookshelf. My childhood dream was to own a fancy library — one that will probably put the one in Beauty and the Beast to shame. When I grew into adulthood however, it became clear that this was, in fact, impossible (unless I find my own beastly billionaire) — but still the essence of the dream lives on. My 23-year-old-self bounced with excitement as I see those pretty book spines lined up on the shelf.
This act of “meditation” happens quite often that it no longer triggers any reaction from my family, except for a few head shakes and raised brows. In the beginning, however, my brother asked incredulously — “Kamu ngapain sih, Ce?” I ignored him and simply turned on the noise-cancelling feature — while he turned around and immersed himself in the flashing game, questions instantly forgotten.
I don’t know why my brother’s question suddenly floated in my brain — interrupting the much needed quiet. I pondered on it (did I mention that sometimes I hate the way my brain works?), and after a long-winding thought, I came upon a realization.
It occurred to me that every component of that peculiar meditation — the books, the bookshelves, the airpods, the Spotify subscription, and even the rolling chair — was a physical reward of the hard work I put in. It brings me a sense of relaxation because looking at it made me realize that I got somewhere, moved a few inches from where I first started — those days when I prayed for the things I have now.
Those days when I need to decide which book I wanted to buy first among the pile because I can rarely buy two at a time.
Those days when I strolled around IKEA and found the perfect bookshelf, promising myself that I would one day save up enough money to purchase it.
Those days when I contemplated over and over to buy myself the airpods with my meager intern salary (a rare whim to splurge for things other than books).
Those days when people looked at me incredulously when I told them I had no Spotify subscription and downloaded my music the old school way, and
Those days when my back ached sitting on a makeshift dining chair with no padding for the long hours of work.
The sense of relaxation post-meditation (or should I say “meditation”) filled me with a new energy to continue working and fulfill my responsibilities. Initially, I thought it was just because I was eager to afford myself a new privilege (maybe a plushy bean bag for my reading corner?). But unbeknownst to myself, there is a second reason: the previous privileges that cannot be taken for granted. Our hard-earned milestones.
So, when things get tough, find little things to remind yourself to be grateful. Remember that you are now living at least some of the dream life of your past self. And to do that, you must always remember the days when you prayed for the things you have now.
